


oviposition

by Jongley



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: @ the universe: i am so sorry, Crack, Eggpreg, Eggpreg (mentioned), M/M, Not Beta Read, Oviposition, Tentacle Dick, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, The Author Regrets Everything, blame twitter, not porny but sex does technically happen, oh my god i can't believe this happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 08:20:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22342696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jongley/pseuds/Jongley
Summary: @leafsbian on twitter said:tired: calling that spot ovechkin always scores from his “office”wired: ovipositionand, well, here we are, folks. this has no redeeming qualities. you've been warned.
Relationships: Nicklas Backstrom/Alexander Ovechkin
Comments: 7
Kudos: 60





	oviposition

**Author's Note:**

> no but seriously, this isn't my fault.  
https://twitter.com/leafsbian/status/1219425415728697345

"Fuck, Nicke, feel so good," Ovi groaned, stretching underneath Nicke's weight pinning him down. Nicke willed back a blush, still, after all this time, a little flustered by Ovi's accent saying his name. He'd practiced for days, no, weeks, calling out, "Nicky!" and "Nicki!" on the ice, across the dressing room, from the other side of the house, Nicke grimacing every time, until one day Alex called out, "Nicke!" with the right inflection, and, well, it had been a good thing they were already home, because Nicke had no choice but to suck his dick for that.

"Aw, you still get little red, just here," Alex started, grinning while gently flicking the tip of Nicke's ear, and Nicke rolled his eyes as Ovi continued, "whenever I say your name right way. No, don't roll eyes, is cute. I like it."

"Smug bastard," Nicke muttered, only meaning it a little. He squirted a little lube, cold from the bottle, right onto Alex's hole in revenge, but squirted more into the palm of his cupped hand to warm it. "Open up," he instructed briskly, tapping the inside of one of Ovi's knees.

"What, no foreplay? No warm ups? Warmies important before game, Nicke," Ovi chided, mock-serious.

"We have one rule, Alex. Literally only _one rule_. I _know_ you can follow it, you're choosing not to."

"Well, yes, because your rule stupid. Hockey analogies best!)))))"

"_How_ do you manage to verbalize those creepy eyeless Russian smiling emojis? It's unnatural."

"Unnatural is your eyes, when you see camera! How you judge me for emojis, when you turn soulless murderface on cameras in interview, Backy—oh! Fuck, do that again."

Nicke's fingers twisted meanly, and he cocked an eyebrow. "Oh, is that enough foreplay? We done with warmies? Or do I need to call Burkie, have him bite your arm, maybe bring Tom and Osh in, too, have them spank each other over the arm of the couch?"

"Next, uh, next time, may-maybe. I'm—I'm good for now. Ready for 'nother," Alex panted.

"Another what? Stick tap on the ass?" Nicke smirked.

"No, ah-another finger, stop tease, Nicke! So mean," whined Ovi.

"I'm not teasing," he teased, toying at the rim of Alex's hole with his third finger. "I'm just making sure you're stretched enough." He slid both his fingers out, then back in, with his index finger snugged up to his ring and middle fingers. "You know how important it is to stretch before a big game."

"Okay, oh—okay, you make your point. Should set b-better example, follow—_oh_—own rules!" Ovi's eyes were closed, his head thrown back against the pillows.

Nicke would never admit it, but Alex did have a point, there. He pulled his fingers out, ignoring Alex's whine, squirted a little extra artificial slick on his tentacle, because there was no such thing as too much lube, even with his and Ovi's natural production, and gripped himself at the base to line up.

He looked up at Alex's face, making sure they were both ready, snorted at the expression of impatience he found there, and pressed his tip to the stretched rim of Alex's hole.

Once he got lined up, Nicke could basically let his tentacle take over; between its strength, flexibility, and the slick it excreted, (not to mention how well-stretched and wet Alex already was) Nicke's tentacle slithered in easy as anything.

Nicke gave a few gentle thrusts, letting them both get settled, and, when Ovi reached down to grip Nicke's hips with his huge, meat-shovel hands, Nicke started to pick up both the pace and the force.

The thrusting wasn't really necessary, biologically speaking, but god did it feel good, and the way Ovi reacted—his eyes screwing up, his mouth dropping open to pant and moan at every thrust, his hands flexing and releasing on Nicke's hips and ass—it never failed to get Nicke to the brink of coming in an embarrassingly short time. And while they technically had the time to go slow—a whole week off, with a couple extra days for Ovi to recover while benched (fuck Bettman, fuck him so much, god, if only he knew what Ovi was really using the break to recover from)—this first fuck was always short, and they needed to get it out of the way, get the eggs positioned, before the real fun could start.

"Fuck, you feel s-so fuking good, Alex, shit. Always so fucking tight, h-how are you always this tight?" Nicke panted, his composure finally slipping.

Alex looked like he was past words, but he managed to grunt out something approximating a sentence. "Ngrh, is, is—is just for you, babe, _ah_—always just you, babe."

"Imagine if—if fucking Bettman could see you now, huh. Fuck, or, or if you still went to the All-Star game after this, after I fuck you so full. Let the boys, all the fans, let everyone see what I do to you, how much you love it, _fuck_."

Ovi's face was a journey; he looked like he was so turned on, so desperate, it was painful. "Shit, Nicke, please, I—I'm close, shitfuckdamn, Nicke, please." (Alex must have been loving it, for him to not chirp Nicke for mentioning Bettman when they were in bed.)

There wasn't much Nicke loved more than fucking Alex to the point of incoherence. He could probably push Alex a little farther, get him to really beg, but Nicke had been holding off his own orgasm long enough already. And, after all, Nicke would have countless more chances to reduce Alex to a sobbing, pleading, incoherent mess after he was full, when Nicke would need to fuck him again every few hours to keep the eggs moist and properly fertilized.

Nicke thrust in one last time, then started grinding against Alex's ass, letting his tentacle move how it wanted inside Alex's body, rubbing directly against his prostate, stimulating him into a messy orgasm. As Ovi started clenching rhythmically around Nicke's tentacle, he finally allowed himself to come, feeling that initial jet of his precome spray out, making sure the eggs would be surrounded by slick.

"Here—here they come," he told Alex, even though he was looking pretty out of it. Alex _mhmm_'d softly, his eyes blinking open slowly as he smiled dopily at Nicke.

His eyes got wider as he felt the first egg start to breach his rim, stretching him even further. And this, this right here was one of those things Nicke loved more than anything: watching Alex take his eggs, seeing him so fucked out and relaxed, so open, and yet still taking more, still wanting more, wanting everything Nicke could give him. It was the most intoxicating feeling, having all of that attention, all of that energy, all of that love, all focused on Nicke.

Nicke had thought it was bad enough when Alex was just focused on learning to pronounce Nicke's name; he didn't have any idea what it would be like to have all of Alex's attention focused on Nicke and Nicke's tentacle, implacably pressing eggs into him.

God, it was heady, this much eye contact, Alex's vulnerability, his trust in Nicke, his scrutiny. Nicke wasn't always sure he was worthy of it, but with Alex here, underneath him, surrounding him, he knew he was right where he belonged.


End file.
